The Sunshine In
by Immaculately
Summary: Michael and Maeby, Michael/Maeby. One shot. Background/inspiration music here youtu . be / earBakicmt0


_The night had started with a well-intentioned dinner at the Balboa club, no more drinking than usual, and an oversized cake that Lucille had wondered aloud if it were shortly to be attached to Lindsay's thighs. But once this party left the bay and went over to a bar, it quickly escalated into a tequila pounding session, with both women drinking themselves under the table, and a family disbursement post an ejection for lewd behaviour. Everyone had partaken in at least one, and soon, the last thing anyone knew was a bar, a dare, and a car engine noise. Not noises normally associated with an easy detective trail for any narrator. But the sun had risen and so must mice and tequila pounding men and women._

The catalogue quilt was strewn over the monoprint carpet, a beam of light slipping through heavy but slightly passe brown curtains and reflecting off the homogenous hotel furniture.

His eyes fluttered, noticing the half empty bottle of vodka and Champaign on the beige dresser. Michael's arm slipped around her milky shoulders, moaning as the beams of light blinded him. "What time is it?"

"Ughh…" the mop of hair groaned, "what did I do last night?"

"What did we do…"

"Again…"

_This was in fact not the second time alcohol and cheap hotel rooms had collided to provide an interesting evening for the two._

Michael embraces the female figure, his lips devouring hers as she backs into the hotel room, the red door slamming behind them.

Michael, in a different shirt, carries her into a room with a green door, holding her from her underside. He made it to the bed, where she dropped, and Michael remembered they were still visible to peeking from the door, slamming it behind him.

_But the first tryst did not involve hotel room doors and alcohol, where the participants were drunk off other substances._

Michael threw back his weight in his chair, his hands behind his head. "I have just signed off on a multi-million dollar deal, that's going to put this company back into the black."

She shrugged, "I see hundreds of millions thrown around every day."

He leaned towards her as she rested against the desk.

"You're not impressed I'm the sole director of his company now? The man who controls the company cheque book?"

She shrugged again, "I've f[BEEP] many directors." Then she stepped back from the desk, realising her audience.

But Michael inhaled sharply.

_Michael had a sudden, and never before felt urge, to one-up himself and take first prize…whatever that would be._

"You know, I was looking at a new company car."

"Another stair car?"

"No," He shook his head with gusto, "I was thinking a Mercies."

"Why a Merc?"

"More room. Leather seats. Just like the look of it."

She rolled her eyes, indicating he was losing his audience.

"You don't think I need one? Four fold profit on last year?"

She focused, a smile creeping onto her face. "I don't know." She turned around.

He stride around the desk to face her.

"Don't you just own bananas?"

"Well, I own three."

"The big banana," she counted, "the banana suit, and...I think George Michael mentioned GOB had a stand too."

"Actually, no, scratch that…there's two…"

"Michael." she smiled with a cheeky grin, "I thought my dad was the blue man." She went to lean back on the desk, to find herself slipping and falling forward into Michael, who in the commotion had a whiff of her hair. When she steadied herself, she found herself locked in gaze with Michael. He leaned in, a kiss barely grazing her lips, soft yet deliberate.

"Mm." He murmured.

Her hands absent-mindedly found his belt buckle, and the button, then the fly.

"Go on Michael, tell me more." She whispered, goadingly.

"So you can have another director on your books?"

"I dunno, let's see the action." She stirred.

_And while his brother needed to clear the desk to build a fort, Michael had needed it for something which he'd fought for…just._

He threw his arm across the desk, the screen and keyboard soaring and crashing to the floor. Wires and cables sprawled everywhere, Michael's focus was only the buttons on her shirt, and solving the problem of them being done up.

"How about…a little less conversation." He taunted back.

"Fine."

She pushed him on top of the desk, her bare legs either side of his torso.

_And soon they were better acquainted, as well as the best acquainted they'd ever been with Michael's office furniture._

In the darkened motel room, Michael sighed, "mm…" He kissed her shoulder.

She looked at the window. "We really need to stop doing this."

"I had fun…though, and I think you did too? Aren't you enjoying us?"

"That's not the point. This isn't an easy case of afternoon delight, Michael."

"Maybe, I should just take you up on your offer."

She turned over, her dark mop thudding against the pillow, dark eyes meeting soft brown ones. "Which offer?"

"Don't you remember," and he whispered, "in the copy room."

She furrowed her brow.

He grunted, "Or we could have a little more action." He straddled her, lifting her head to his, entering a prologued kiss, before the words escaped from his lips, "Maeby…Maeby."


End file.
